Chapter Fifteen

 

Batsheva rambled for a while until even Celeste began to look embarrassed by her leader's behavior, all about her plans for dominance and what she was going to do to Pannera, to my mother, to Margaret, on and on in a spiraling downward vortex of cray-cray.

I watched Celeste carefully and realized very quickly the force of power had shifted between them. Though Batsheva came across as the leader, from the moments of hatred puncturing her calm, it was clear Celeste now held the reins, allowing the other woman to act as some kind of deranged figurehead. And though I wasn't sure why, just yet, Celeste must have had a plan. Possibly with the help of the Brotherhood.

Which meant she was now the more dangerous of the two.

Hard to take Batsheva seriously anymore as she paced and snarled before cackling and twirling like a demented fairy tale princess in front of her mirror. Sad, actually. Depressing. As much as I was happy to see her go down, I wanted her to be aware of her fall. Her defeat now seemed like a mercy killing.

One good thing came out of it. Everything she babbled confirmed what Demetrius told me. So I knew I could trust him. Nice to know I hadn't lied to Mom and Margaret.

Whatever Batsheva's original plan for bringing me to her chamber, by the time she wound down, Piotr finally groaning awake at my feet, a heavy knock on the door broke up the festivities. Six bulky Enforcers entered, black cloaks sweeping around them as the lead, a hefty man with jowls to rival a bulldog, spoke in his British accent.

“The negotiations reconvene,” he said. “Your presence is requested.”

Way to save the day. Batsheva dimpled at him, though her blue eyes flashed with anger.

“Of course,” she snarled. Glanced at me. Turned even paler than usual, quite a feat. Spun on Celeste. “We were supposed to kill her.”

Celeste's scowl almost made me laugh as she grasped her leader's arm. “Time to go, my Queen.”

“But we brought her here to kill her. Why is she alive?”

I almost commented, wondering why the Enforcers watching this particular farce unfold didn’t comment, react, nothing. It was up to me. And I was so close, snark hovering on my lips. But I let it go, let them leave without further comment, two Enforcers coming to my side as their leader nodded to me.

“Miss Hayle,” he said. “I'm Elliot Pearson. Margaret sent me for you. You're well?”

“A little bored,” I said. “Thanks for the rescue.” I followed him out into the corridor where Pender and two other of Mom's Enforcers waited.

“She's all yours,” Elliot said. Winked at me. “You've got my vote, missy.”

Flirt. I winked back. “Nice to hear it.”

Pender bowed stiffly to his counterpart and waited until the others left, Elliot whistling to himself, before bending over me.

“Your mother was concerned,” he said, voice strained. “I hope you're well?”

“Very well.” A laugh bubbled inside me at the absurdity of my last hour or so. “I have to talk to Mom.”

His face crumpled. “Not possible now,” he said. “Margaret reconvened the talks only a short time ago, though they should break in a bit. Shall I escort you back to you quarters?”

The very place I wanted to be, trapped in my princess cave. “I guess so.”

Lost in thought, trying to come up with a way to use Batsheva's madness against her, I didn't even consider the fact something else might be amiss until I found myself outside my door.

What was left of my door. It had already been damaged when Mom put on her little show of don't screw with Miriam Hayle. But now it lay scattered on the floor in large chunks and sharp splinters, claw marks gouged so deep in some of the pieces they almost reached all the way through.

Thought left me, terror gripping my throat in a chokehold as I ran through the gap and looked around at the devastation. Shattered furniture laid crushed and crumpled, fabric torn, the carpet ripped in strips. By claws.

Very sharp claws.

“Charlotte!” I raced to the bedroom where the overturned four-poster told me a story that only increased my fear for her. I spun to Pender who looked as shocked as I did. “Where is she?”

“I don't know.” He turned and snapped his fingers and the two Enforcers with him dashed off. “We'll find her.”

Panic. I reached for her, dove for my vampire. Your kind hate werewolves, I sent. Can you track her through that?

I don't hate them, she sent. It's the young one's taint that drives them to such bias.

Whatever. Can you find her or not?

Patience, Sydlynn, she sent. I'm as worried as you are. Pause, painful, slow, agonizing, wretched. I've found her.

Our minds flashed together, out of my body and to Charlotte—

Snarling, snapping, in pain, devoured by rage, an iron chain holding her down, icy cobbles under her feet, the open sky above while stone walls hold her in.

And the enemy. Cold, their scent of the grave and dust and death, surrounding her. Coming for her with their fangs, ready to drain her blood.

I jerked back to myself and reached for my vampire, trying to transport.

They’re blocking her location from me. Even she sounded desperate. I can see her, but I can’t get a fix on where they are holding her.

I didn’t wait for her to finish, already running, out the door, Pender on my heels.

And into two bulky vampires who tried to stop me.

“Where is she?” My entire body vibrated with the need to hurt them both so much they would beg me to stop. Beg.

One of them shrugged with a little smile, but the other snarled at me.

“The foul creature attacked our kind,” he said. “She waits in the courtyard for her execution.”

I reached out with my magic, my vampire grasping both of them by the throat and slamming them into the wall, jerking them off their feet until they writhed from the pressure, howling in outrage until I tightened my grip, squeezing their undead bodies while they cried out in pain.

“You will take me to her,” I said, the ice cold fury of my vampire pulling me deep into her magic, “and if even a hair on her head has been harmed, I will kill you both.”

 

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